Sam Kincaid 01 - The Commission

side of the state line, not in my jurisdiction. But we get ’em on occasion.
    “Now, how can I help you?”
    “We’d like copies of the police and autopsy reports,” said Kate, “and the suicide note as well.”
    “No problem. Anything else?”
    “If it’s not too much trouble, we’d like to have a look around Watts’ hotel room,” I said.
    “Easily arranged. Let me call the hotel right now.”
    Corey accompanied us to the Red Garter Hotel and Casino, where a search of the room produced nothing that would strengthen our case or explain Watts’ apparent suicide. We managed to convince Corey and the hotel’s director of security to keep the room sealed for an additional twenty-four hours until the medical examiner’s office issued their autopsy findings.
    As we prepared to part company with Chief Corey, a thought occurred to me. “Chief, where do you park your police impounds?”
    “The tow company we use has a fenced lot on the outskirts of town. Why do you ask?”
    “Since the case is being treated as a suicide, the crime lab team didn’t process Watts’ vehicle for latent prints. It might be a good idea to park his car inside temporarily where it isn’t exposed to the elements, at least until we receive an official cause of death.”
    “That’s a damn good idea,” said Corey. “I’ll call the impound lot right away.”
    ***
    By the time we got back to Salt Lake City, the four o’clock news conference was over. We found a television set and scanned all the local news stations at five and five-thirty. The story led on every channel. A clearly pleased trio consisting of Captain Locke, Mayor Baldwin, and Police Chief Hansen solemnly laid out the case against Charles Watts. It was convincing. Locke made no mention of the contribution McConnell made to the successful resolution of the case, nor did he mention the assistance provided by the Department of Corrections. That was perfectly okay with me and, I suspect, Norm Sloan. My unit, the SIB, always toiled behind the scenes in relative obscurity. We were used to that and actually preferred it. As for Sloan, my guess was that he too preferred that the department maintain a low profile. The most unsettling aspect in the resolution of the case was that without a walking, talking suspect, we would never know for sure why Levi Vogue was murdered.

Chapter Twenty-one
    After watching the news, I turned to Kate. “I believe this calls for a celebration. I recommend we adjourn to a local restaurant of your choice. My only requirement is that the menu has to have an assortment of good beer. Since I didn’t get the chance to gamble today, I figure I’m entitled to spend some time on another vice. And besides, I’m buying.”
    “Sounds good to me. I too have one stipulation. This outing cannot be classified as a date, since I refuse to date inside the police fraternity.”
    “That’s okay with me. Call it anything you’d like. I can’t be out late anyway. I’ve got another engagement later in the evening with a beautiful young blonde.”
    “Oh, really,” said Kate. “Let me think. This gorgeous blonde you referred to wouldn’t happen to be an eight-year-old living in Park City, would she?”
    “Boy, you’re a quick study. I’ve been living like a Trappist monk since the divorce. But I’m not complaining. I figure between Sara and Aunt June, a guy couldn’t do any better.”
    For the next two hours, Kate and I settled in at the Uintah Brew Pub on Salt Lake’s west side. Kate ordered a Cobb salad and a glass of Merlot. I stuck with Uintah Pale Ale and a plate of cold shrimp.
    We kept the conversation light, searching for common interests, but mostly filled in blanks from our past. I was relieved when the alcohol started to take effect. The conversation became more relaxed. I’d been out of the singles scene for a long time, and until now, I hadn’t had much interest in the opposite sex. A divorce would do that for you.
    Away from work, Kate McConnell was fun to be with. She smiled easily and often, and had a great sense of humor. She was smart, attractive, and outgoing—a dangerous combination. Toward the end of our evening, the verbal “getting to know you” had given way to periods of silence when our eyes locked until one of us became uncomfortable and looked away.
    Later, as we parted, Kate took my hand and pulled me close. She nestled her body next to mine and held the hug for a period that seemed longer than normal. I kissed